


Alone Together

by owlbearfiction



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, The Last of Us AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23626144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlbearfiction/pseuds/owlbearfiction
Summary: An inhuman groan and the crashing of branches sounded behind Yang. A foot stepping into mud, the other dragging. Another inhuman click. Yang started turning, trying to look over her shoulder, before a sharp squeeze to her knee made her stop. She looked at Blake, her girlfriend subtly shaking her head as her gaze locked over her shoulder.  A rattling breath filled the silence, the branches in the bush behind Yang moved...
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	Alone Together

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Just wanted to place some warnings at the top of this chapter since I do touch on some topics that can be intense. There are mentions of abuse as well as descriptions of a panic attack, if this something that bothers you please take care of yourself and don't read!

October 29th, 2014  
397 Days after the Outbreak

Her breaths came out hard and fast as her feet slammed into the muddied earth below her. Her bag tapped out a rhythmic beat on her back. Yang wasn’t sure if it was sweat or rain that was making her clothes stick to her at this point. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Blake was still behind her, making sure that she was fine. It seemed everything had been all but fine for the past month. 

A low, sharp click bounced off the trees around them, branches slapping into her thighs as she skidded to a halt. Blake stopped behind her. They looked at each other, white puffs of breath floating in front of their faces. An inhuman screech. Another click. 

They didn’t have time to stop and be quiet. They didn’t have time to wait the clickers out. Yang could see it in Blake’s eyes--the twitching in her muscles--she was going to run. She grabbed Blake’s wrist, locking eyes with her. She shook her head and pressed her finger up to her lips. “Shhh.” Yang lowered herself into the bush, pulling Blake down gently with her.

They needed to wait and she hated that they did. 

“They’re going to catch up with us,” Blake hissed, her hand dropping and gripping Yang’s knee.

“Blake.” 

Gold met purple as Yang shifted closer, cupping Blake’s cheeks.

“Breathe.”

She could feel Blake searching her face, looking for her to say everything would be okay. They’d make it out of here alive, safe, happy. Yang couldn’t promise that, but she could give Blake this small moment of calm. A pocket of sanctuary in an ever present storm of chaos and hurt. Yang inched closer, pressing her lips to Blake’s forehead. Yang could feel Blake slowly unfold underneath her, tense strings coming loose.

“Just breathe, okay?”

“Okay,” Blake breathed, pulling back.

A hand slotted against her cheek, Blake’s thumb moving in an ever familiar motion. 

“Thank you,” she said.

Yang turned and kissed the inside of Blake’s palm, taking in this moment of sanctuary. Tucking it away for later. She wasn’t sure when they’d have time to breathe again, even if this moment was forced by danger. 

\------------------

December 31th, 2012  
268 Days before the Outbreak

Yang’s car jittered to a stop in Blake’s driveway, her grip tightening and loosening around the steering wheel. She’d been able to make the drive up in just under six hours. Yang stared at the clock on the dashboard, the time blinking back at her. She was nervous, but not in the way that being around Blake made her--an excited thrum through her blood that left her breathless. Instead, this was more unpredictable. Both of them had decided to go to a party for New Years, a party Blake had suddenly been invited to. It was a longtime friend of Blake’s that had extended the invitation, and that meant that Yang was finally going to be meeting her friends. Friends that Blake had known since she was in kindergarden. God, she really hoped they liked her. Yang exhaled, pulling the key out of the ignition and getting out of the car. It was uncharacteristically warm in California for December, allowing Yang to indulge in her tank top wearing past the acceptable season. 

Yang twirled the keys around her index finger, slapping them into her palm as she walked up to Blake’s door and rang the doorbell. She hadn’t seen Ghira or Kali in a few weeks--

“Yang Xiao Long!” Ghira called as he opened the door. Yang didn’t have a second to brace herself as she was pulled up off her feet into a hug. “It’s been weeks! What, are you sick of us?”

“Dad, please, you’re going to snap her spine,” Blake groaned from the stairs as he placed Yang back down on the floor. 

“You know I’d never get sick of you Mr.B-- Ghira.” Yang stumbled over the formality. Both of Blake’s parents had been insisting she call them by their first names since the beginning of the semester, and she still struggled with breaking out of the habit. 

The Belladonna house was--huge. It had taken Yang a few visits to get used to just how large the house was, but somehow the three members of the family managed to fill the space perfectly. Fishing rods rested against the corner of the doorway and photos of the family littered the hallway wall. Somehow, the smell of a freshly cooked meal, heavy with herbs always hung in the air whenever Yang came over. 

“Yang?” Kali called from the kitchen. “Have you eaten?”

Yang glanced at Blake, only to see her hang her head before walking the short distance from the stairs and taking her hand.

“Can we eat something before we leave? I still haven’t finished getting ready.” Blake asked as she tugged Yang up the stairs before Kali could respond. 

Yang chuckled, calling over her shoulder. “Some food would be great, Kali, thank you!”

Blake clucked her tongue, pulling Yang up the rest of the stairs, the hold on her wrist moving to familiar fingers curling around her own. She was pulled into Blake’s room and as soon as Yang had the opportunity, she wrapped Blake into a hug, pressing her cheek on the top of the other woman's head.

“Hi,” Blake muttered, melting into her.

“Hey,” Yang chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You smell good.” 

Blake pulled away from the hug, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. Yang could feel the hints of a smile in it. 

“Thank you,” Blake said, pulling away and walking over to her desk. “I was about to put some makeup on.”

The invitation for Yang to make herself comfortable wasn’t even necessary anymore--it hadn’t been for months. Instead, she walked across the carpet and flopped onto Blake’s bed. Two books dug into her back, making her squirm, trying to get them out from under her.

“School?” She asked, holding up a copy of the communist manifesto.

“Mmmm sorta,” Blake hummed, leaning into her mirror and applying eyeshadow.

“Oh, radicalizing your gen-ed comrades then?” Yang joked, flipping through the short book.

“Da,” Blake replied fully monotone in a poor Russian accent.

Yang chuckled as she pulled the other book out from under her, placing it on the floor and rolling onto her stomach. Yang always loved watching Blake get ready. The deliberate, sure strokes as Blake applied eyeliner, the way her mouth opened slightly as she brushed mascara onto her eyelashes-- Yang loved her. The conclusion wasn’t exactly new or jarring but instead like a train slowly rolling into a station. A station which could be seen from inside the train for what felt like miles. She was always going to come to this realization and it felt warm. 

“I’m almost done,” Blake said, pressing her lips together after applying lipstick.

“Aw, you’re wearing lipstick tonight?” Yang whined. “ I won’t be able to kiss you as much.” 

Blake let out a huff, spinning her chair towards Yang, “The lipstick completes the look. You don’t see me commenting on your choice of shirt.”

Yang scoffed, rolling off the bed.

“Belladonna, you are not complaining about my choice in shirt right now,” Yang said, clapping her palms onto the arms of Blake’s chair.

“We both know you...” She paused, leaning in closer, letting her breath ghost across Blake’s cheek. “...Absolutely...” A light kiss pressed to the shell of Blake’s jaw, “...Love...” Teeth dragging across Blake’s neck. “...It.” 

The catching of breath in Blake’s throat was audible and the only reward Yang needed before pushing away. 

“What did your mom make anyways?” Yang asked, walking towards the door, tucking her hands into her front pockets.

Silence.

“Blake?” Yang called, turning back towards where she expected to find her girlfriend, only to be pushed up against the wall, hungry lips connecting with hers. 

Breathless--that's the first word that came to mind whenever Blake did this. The needy kisses being exchanged between her and Blake were definitely ruining the lipstick she just put on.  
Hungry hands pressed up against her stomach making whatever breath was left in her lungs stutter out of her lips. Yang’s head knocked against the wall as teeth nipped just under her jaw. Fingers inched just below the band of her underwear. 

“We’re,” a muffled sigh, “going to be late for the party.”

Blake pulled away, resting her forehead against Yang’s collarbone groaning.

“Is being late so bad?” Blake asked, pulling back and pressing her thumb to the corner of Yang’s mouth to wipe away the lipstick there. 

“If I’m trying to get your childhood friends to like me,” Yang pulled Blakes hand from the corner of her face, pressing a kiss into her palm. “Then yes.” 

“They’re going to love you,” Blake muttered, her hand cupping Yang’s face, thumb tracking in a pattern that was becoming more and more familiar. 

Yang pressed her cheek further into Blake’s palm. The reassurance had more to it then anyone else would know. 

“No, but really,” Yang said smiling. “What did your mom make? I'm starving.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” Blake groaned, pushing away from Yang as laughter bubbled up and out of both of their throats.

\------------------

An inhuman groan and the crashing of branches sounded behind Yang. A foot stepping into mud, the other dragging. Another inhuman click. Yang started turning, trying to look over her shoulder, before a sharp squeeze to her knee made her stop. She looked at Blake, her girlfriend subtly shaking her head as her gaze locked over her shoulder. A rattling breath filled the silence, the branches in the bush behind Yang moved. 

‘Don’t. Move.’ Blake mouthed the words. Yang could feel the clicker behind her, its limbs twitching jerkily, almost bumping into her. If it hit her, she was done for. Its teeth and dirty fingers would be sinking into her skin before she could react. Blake’s fingers pressed deeper into her knee, making Yang look at her. Her girlfriend’s lips pulled up into a tight smile. Yang couldn’t help but notice the lines of exhaustion on Blake’s face.

“I think they ran over here!” A voice, male, shouted.

Both Yang and Blake’s heads whipped in the direction of the voice, the clicker behind Yang contorting before letting out a screech. Branches smacked against Yang’s back as it took off running in the direction of the voice, gurgled screams tearing out of its throat. 

“Oh shit!” 

A crack of gunfire. Then another. An inhuman screech. Blake scrambled up from the bush, grabbing Yang’s hand, slick with rain. Yang slipped on the mud, hands clapping down on the ground, pebbles digging into her palms.

“Shit,” she hissed, whipping her head over her shoulder.

More infected were closing in on the man and the group that was following him. She saw a body with twisted limbs lunge at someone, a flash of gunfire between the two bodies. She felt Blake more than saw her pull her up off the ground.

“Yang, ” Blake said, her voice shaking. “ We have to keep moving.” 

“Okay,” Yang mumbled, allowing herself to be led. “Okay.” 

They jogged a few more feet, the shouts from infected and humans quieting down. Maybe they’d killed each other off. Yang scowled at the level of nonchalance the thought came with--when had she become so accustomed to death? The trunk of the tree in front of them splintered as a crack of gunfire split the silence. Yang grabbed Blake by her backpack, dragging her into the tree she had slammed her back against. Her body wrapped around Blake’s as the two of them breathed heavily, blinking rain out of their eyes. 

“Oh, Ladies!” Someone shouted.

Blake tensed underneath Yang as a beat passed, then two. Yang looked over her shoulder, just barely seeing a man in her periphery. He was at least forty yards away from them. She watched as he raised his gun towards the sky and fired twice. 

“He’s fucking insane,” Yang muttered. “He’s absolutely fucking insane.” 

“He’s gonna kill us,” Blake whispered, pushing her back into Yang.

“No,” Yang said, squeezing her., “He’s not.” 

“We don’t have guns, Yang.” Blake sighed, leaning into the tree trunk, her hand coming up to cup her forehead. The motion screamed exhaustion. “Even if we did, what are we going to do-- shoot him?!” Blake asked, her voice pitching up.

“If it means us staying alive and getting out of here,” Yang paused, bile biting at the back of her tongue, “then yes.” 

Blake jerked out of Yang’s arms, turning to look at her.

“You don’t mean that and we both know it,” Blake bit, her eyes narrowing.

Yang knew Blake could read her like a book, read the lie written clear across her face. But somewhere, deep down, Yang knew she would if she had to. Squeeze the life out of someone by pulling a trigger, a simple twitch of the finger. Her gaze dropped from Blake’s face to the ground. The kicked up mud and earth stared back, their boot’s treads imprinting the ground.

“Shit!” 

Yang was jerked to the side. Her feet slid out from under her, air rushing out of her lungs as she smacked into the ground. She didn’t even hear the gunshot initially, just thought the ringing in her ears was from the way Blake threw her to the side. Yang watched, wide-eyed, as Blake stumbled back, hands shaking before clawing at her stomach, coming away red. A whimper bubbled out of Blake’s throat. 

Her heart stopped. Everything stopped.

“Found you,” a voice murmured.

The sound of a hammer clicking into place in a pistol. 

Red. Fire licking through her veins. Yang pushed up off the ground and grabbed the man by the waist and slammed him into the ground. There were no thoughts, just the thrumming beat of her blood pounding in her ears. She could taste metal, like someone had shoved a penny in her mouth. She was only seeing red, like those old 3D glasses people wore in movie theaters before everything fell to shit. Her fist drove across his face, splitting skin. She hit him again, and again, and again, and again until her hands were shaking and her knuckles were broken. 

Blake. Blake, Blake, Blake. 

And suddenly all her thoughts turned into that. 

Yang scrambled off the man’s body, wiping water from her eyes. This time, it wasn’t rain. She slid across the mud to Blake’s shaking body and cupped her girlfriend’s face. Blake was curled around her stomach, hands gripped tight over a growing dark spot in her clothes. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and the muscles in her jaw fluttered. 

“Blake,” Yang croaked. She felt like someone had a tight grip around her throat and was slowly squeezing. “Blake, look at me, please.”

Yang pushed aside some of the curls plastered to Blake’s face, running her thumbs over her cheeks. Everything was blurry and no matter how hard Yang blinked her eyes, nothing seemed to become clearer. One of Blake’s hands wrapped around Yang’s wrist, fingers gently hooked at the bend of it, trailing up to the back of Yang’s hand. The rain washed the blood trail away quick enough on Yang’s skin. Purple met hazy gold and suddenly, Yang’s chest was cracking open. Her heart fractured and crumbled as she trailed her fingers along Blake’s cheeks, finally grabbing her hand.

“We’re gonna patch you up,” Yang brushed Blake’s hair behind her ear. “And we’re gonna find Ruby and Qrow and Weiss.” She pressed a kiss to Blake’s temple. “And then everything’s going to be okay.” A long, tumbling breath.

“Okay?” Her voice cracked as Blake looked at her, eye’s softening.

“Okay,” Blake muttered, trembling. 

Yang pushed away slightly, righting her backpack and clothes. She looked down at her hand, bruises already mottling the busted knuckles. Flaring her fingers out, pain shot down her knuckles. It felt like a nail was being driven into her palm. She bit her lip, hard. She-- Blake didn’t have time for this. Yang jogged over to the man, refusing to look at his body--refusing to see if his chest was still rising and falling. She pulled the pistol from his hand and tucked it into the back of her jeans, returning to Blake.

“Okay, ready baby?” Yang asked, pulling Blake’s backpack off and shrugging it onto her front. “You’re gonna need to walk with me, okay?”

Yang ducked her head to wait for Blake’s response, a little nod and an arm lifted up towards her. She slung Blake’s arm over her shoulder, pulling her up. The sharp inhale from her girlfriend made Yang wince, glancing over to look at her. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

“Keep pressure on it, okay?” Yang said, taking a step forward, and then another. 

It was long and slow. As the sun started to set, panic crawled deep into Yang’s bones, their flashlights were dead--they had been for over a week. If they didn’t find a house or something soon, Blake was dead. They weren’t going to make it.

“Blake?” Yang spoke up. They’d been silent for hours, focusing on walking.

Yang had been trying not to look at Blake’s stomach too much, at where her hand was clutching. A hum was all she got in response.

“Do you remember the first time you met my dad?” She was trying to distract Blake as much as herself at this point, find some light in the setting sun. 

Blake let out a huff.

“Yea,” She croaked. “You had the massive oversight of not mentioning you had a dog. I nearly died.” 

“He’s ten pounds of just fur, Blake,” Yang said flatly, looking over. 

For a moment, it felt like everything was back to normal. No illness, no fear--just plain, simple like everything else was before. Her eyes flicked down to where Blake’s hand was clutching, the dark spot now staining her shirt and jacket. Sweat had started beading across Blake’s forehead, the rain having stopped an hour or so ago. Her skin looked paler, the bags under her eyes more prominent. 

“Blake,” Yang croaked, turning toward her fully now, her vision clouding. Her throat felt thick as hot tears started dragging down her cheeks. She couldn’t lose Blake, she was all she had left, she couldn’t be alone. Not again.

“Yang,” Blake’s hand cupped her cheek briefly before sliding away. “Don’t,” she muttered, breathless, “please don’t cry, I can’t--” 

She stumbled into Yang, head pressing into Yang’s shoulder.

“I can’t,” Blake mumbled again.

Yang’s hand gripped the back of Blake’s shirt, the fabric bunching around her fingers. It was damp and cold. Blake felt smaller than ever pressed into her. Yang tilted her head back, wiping at her eyes furiously with her free hand. No more crying. She was going to find a place for them to stay the night and she was going to patch Blake up, somehow. She had no other option.

“I’m gonna run ahead a bit and see if I can spot any houses before it gets too dark,” Yang said, rubbing a small circle into Blake’s back. “I’ll be right back.”

Blake simply hummed her confirmation, pulling back from Yang and leaning against the nearest tree. Yang didn’t want to leave her, but she also didn’t want them stumbling around the woods soaked and blind. Walking away from Blake felt like sealing some kind of unspoken fate. Every dozen feet or so, Yang couldn’t help but look back over her shoulder and make sure her girlfriend was still there, standing, breathing, alive. 

\------------------

November 12th, 2011  
683 Days before the Outbreak

Yang lay on her bed, one hand gingerly supporting the laptop resting on her stomach, as she watched a man explain how to count electrons on elements and on what ring they move. Familiar stuff for her, though not so much for Blake. She opened up her messaging app, double checking she hadn’t missed any texts announcing her friend’s arrival. They’d been talking after their Sociology class and Blake had let slip that she was struggling with her Chemistry class. Before Yang had even realized it, she was offering to help. One nervous explanation about how she had taken Chemistry already and was pretty good in the subject later, and Blake had accepted the offer. They’d never hung out outside of campus--well, until now.

A doorbell chimed from down the hall. Realization dawned too late. Ruby loved answering the door. 

“I got it!” Ruby yelled, followed by bare feet pelting down a hallway.

Yang slammed her laptop shut and scrambled off her bed, her sock covered feet slipping on the floor. Ruby was an agent of chaos and it was cruel to leave Blake to her whims. She didn’t even make it to her door before Ruby shouted down the hallway again.

“Yang! Some pretty girl is here to study.” A brief reprieve from yelling. “Sorry, what did you say your name was, again?”

Yang whipped her door open, running down the hallway sliding across the floor between Blake and Ruby.

“Hi,” She rushed out to Blake. “Just-- one moment please,” she said, holding up her finger. 

Yang turned, scooping Ruby up and over her shoulder, and started walking down the hallway. A faint giggle sounded behind her. 

“Yang! This isn’t fair, you always do this,” Ruby complained, lightly whacking her on the back with her hands.

“I am not having another Weiss incident,” Yang said, continuing down the hallway nonplussed.

“I’m sixteen, not twelve! I know how to behave!” 

“You put a metal fork in the microwave just a week ago to see what would happen,” Yang said, monotone, stopping in front of Ruby’s room and putting her sister down.

“I wanted to see if it would really explode,” Ruby muttered, crossing her arms and refusing to make eye contact. 

“We need to study,” Yang said as Ruby huffed. “Next time she’s over, you can wreak havoc--promise.” 

Yang held up her pinky finger which Ruby reluctantly knocked hers against. 

“Fine,” Ruby said, extending the word as she turned into her room.

“Love you!” Yang called as she walked back down the hallway towards Blake. 

Blake hadn’t walked much past where Yang had skidded in front of her. The amusement at the situation was clear in Blakes face. 

“Do you have siblings?” Yang asked over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen.

She’d only known Blake for a little over three months and she could list the things she knew about the other woman on one hand. She liked books, the subject didn’t seem to matter. Instead it seemed the ritual of moving inked soaked pages was important. When she was passionate about a subject, Blake came to life, her eyes lit up and her voice moved with a confidence Yang didn’t typically see in the other woman. She also knew Blake loved black coffee--she’d come into their morning class way too many times with a cup from the student cafeteria. Yang had no idea how she drank it, that coffee tasted like mud.

“No, I don’t,” Blake replied, tucking her hair behind her ear, the action catching Yang’s attention and making her heart beat a little harder. 

“Ah,” Yang said, pulling two glasses down from the cabinet. “You’re not missing much. Having siblings sucks!” Yang jokingly yelled, turning towards Blake and waiting for her sister’s inevitable response.

“Fuck you!” Ruby fondly shouted from her room. 

“Do you want water or something else?” Yang asked, raising the glasses in her hand.

“Oh, uh-- water is fine,” Blake murmured, walking over to the kitchen table. “You guys are clearly close. That must be nice.” 

“Yeah, Ruby is amazing.” Yang smiled as she filled both glasses with water. “If you want, we can work in my room. A little bit more comfy than just sitting in chairs in the kitchen.” 

“Oh,” Blake said as Yang passed her a glass. “That would be nice.” 

“Cool,” Yang replied, taking a sip from her glass before turning and walking out of the kitchen, expecting Blake to follow. “Did you have trouble getting here? I know my house is a little…” Yang wiggled her hand, letting the gesture speak for itself. 

“No, no trouble, Adam drove me,” Blake said as the both of them continued down the short hallway and into Yang’s room. 

“Ah.” Yang said trying to not let too much emotion leak into the word.

She didn’t know much about Adam, but from the little snippets of information Blake had provided about him, Yang didn’t like him. She walked over to her bed, picking up the laptop and notebook she had been writing in. 

“Feel free to put your stuff down wherever. Make yourself comfortable,” Yang said, sitting down on her floor and opening her laptop. 

The two slipped into easy discussion after that, mostly focusing on the school work Blake came over for help with. Yang quickly learned that although Blake could write circles around her in their Sociology class, Chemistry is where Yang shined. She found an ease in the science and genuinely enjoyed explaining the concepts to Blake. It reminded her of when she helped Ruby when she was especially young with homework. 

Yang flopped back onto the floor, stretching her arms over her head.

“I don’t know about you,” she groaned, “but I could use a break.”

Blake let out a small huff of laughter. “I wouldn't mind a break. I finally understand all the Chem-is-cry graffiti highschoolers put in the bathroom stalls.”

Yang blinked slowly as she stared up at the ceiling, her eyes feeling tired. The sound of Blake laying down followed by a sigh floated through the room. A few years ago, Yang and Ruby had decided to paste all of their favorite magazine covers across the ceiling of her room. Varying art styles for video games and movies stared back at the both of them.

“That one is my favorite, I think,” Yang said, pointing up to a magazine cover that she and Ruby found at a garage sale when they were kids. The movie on it wasn’t any good, but the memory was. Summer was still with them then. 

“Have you seen all of them?” Blake asked.

Yang turned her head to look towards where Blake was and was struck by how close the two of them were. She hadn’t even realized Blake had turned towards her as well. She fully twisted towards Blake and tucked her arm under her head.

“No, not all of them.,” she muttered.

This moment felt intimate, like something that shouldn't leave the room. Blake hummed, shifting her head back towards the ceiling. Yang couldn’t help but be transfixed, her eyes tracing the curve of Blake’s jaw, she was beautiful. The words just seemed to tumble out as the two of them laid on the floor of her room.

“My sister and I found the magazine in this pile at a yard sale and we just-- couldn’t part with it. My dad and mom decided to get it for us.” Yang shrugged as she gestured towards the cover on the ceiling.

A beat passed.

“I miss her, every now and then,” Yang blurted out. “She’s been gone for a while but….” the sentence hung there in the air.

“How did she die?” Blake asked, and as Yang looked towards her and their gaze connected, a level of understanding passed between them. It was one of loss and most importantly one lacking judgement.

“Cancer,” Yang said, swallowing thickly. “It was really sudden. It was like she was here, and then…. She wasn’t.”

Yang blinked hard and turned her head back towards the ceiling. The look Blake was giving her was too intense, too sincere, too encouraging. She couldn’t help but want to keep talking. Her chest cracked open and revealed the fractured lines of loss, revealed the plaster caked over the lines.

“I was angry for a really long time.” She was fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, now. “It felt like I was the only adult in the house even though my dad was around.”

“That must have been hard,” Blake said, a softness to her voice Yang had never heard before.

“I-- Yeah, I guess it was,” Yang muttered shifting into a sitting position. “Sorry, I don’t normally--” 

“Yang,” Blake interrupted, sitting up as well. “Don’t apologize, please.”

Yang laughed nervously, nodding her head. “Okay.” 

She smiled at Blake, tapping the touchpad on her laptop to turn the screen back on. They’d been studying much longer than she had been expecting. Her dad should be back with pizza soon.

“Do you want to stay for dinner? We’re having pizza--it’s a tradition on Saturdays.”

Blake smiled back, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“I--”

Blake’s phone buzzed, shifting back and forth on the floor, the name Adam coming up on the screen. Yang couldn’t help but notice the way Blake’s shoulders drooped, the small sigh that came from her throat. 

“Hey babe,” Blake muttered into the phone, her lips immediately pressing into a line as Adam said something on the other end.

“No-- I-- I didn’t see the texts, sorry,” Blake mumbled further into the phone.

“I can be ready for you to...” Blake paused, an unintelligible response cutting her off. “Right, right of course. I’ll uh, figure something out and be there soon.”

Blake hung up and locked the phone, looking back over to Yang. The openness she found in Blake’s eyes earlier was gone. Yang waited for Blake to say whatever was on her mind, tried to give her the same patience that was provided for herself earlier. 

“I, uhm, have to go,” Blake said, eyes dropping to the floor.

“Okay,” Yang said. “If you can stay a bit longer, my dad should be home soon with food and then I can drive you home.” 

\------------------

A burning ache had settled into all of Yang’s limbs as she made her way up the hill she’d found in the forest. The trees had started thinning out and she was praying that once she’d reached the top of it, she’d be able to spot a house or something of use. She shifted the backpack on her front, pausing to rest against a tree; She had maybe twenty more minutes left of sunlight, if she had to guess. She was exhausted, and she didn’t have time to be. Grunting, she pushed off the tree and continued to the top, pushing her bangs back with her good hand. She swallowed, trying to fight off the low panic settling in her gut. Her eyes swept the horizon in front of her, frantically searching. Tree, tree, tree, another tree. 

Yang bit hard on the inside of her cheek-- she needed something in this forest, she needed for there to be a house or something. Just-- give her something. Her eyes stopped their frantic tracking over the treeline, focusing on a gap. She squinted, leaning forward. It looked like a chimney, maybe. She whirled back around, running down the hill and almost tripping. She needed to get back to Blake. A maybe was enough for right now.

She was running so fast through the woods she almost slammed right into Blake as she curled around a tree.

“Jesus!” Blake hissed, her palm pressing into Yang's heaving chest.

“I think I found something,” Yang said, in between her gasps for breath, “A chimney.” She tilted her head in the direction she came, “That way.” 

“Okay,” Blake said, nodding. She curled her fingers into the fabric of Yang’s shirt, staying there for a moment.

Yang wrapped her hand around Blake’s, squeezing it. Her girlfriend’s eyes met hers but they were unfocused, distant. A hard shiver ran through Blake. Yang shifted closer, her hand skimming down Blake’s arm before settling on her bicep, her thumb rubbing a circle into it. Their eyes met again. Her girlfriend’s brows had furrowed and Yang wanted to press out the tension in the skin.

“Yang?” Blake mumbled. 

Yang hummed, inching closer. 

“I think,” Blake paused, breathing in shakily, “I think I’m about to pass out.”

“Okay.” It was a simple response, but Yang had no idea what else to say. 

This whole situation had her feeling like she was swimming in a pool without a bottom-- just treading water and trying her best not to drown. She had no plan, and no idea how she was going to make this okay. She braced Blake and slowly brought them both down to the ground, sitting closely, and waited. She watched Blake’s head bob, eyes fighting to stay open, and then her body became slack against hers. Blake’s breathing leveled out and the tense lines across her face flattened. 

Yang sat there for a moment, staring at the tree across from her, a scream building in her throat. Instead, she put her knuckles in her mouth and bit down-- hard. She squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten, letting out a long breath at the end. She would have time for a breakdown later--she needed to move them both. Yang shrugged Blake’s backpack off her front, tugging the straps to be as long as possible and wiggling it onto her back over her own backpack. She shifted, looking at Blake, some curls of her hair having fallen out from behind her ear. Yang tucked them back into place and then picked Blake up.

Walking to where she thought she saw a chimney was hell. Her hand hurt, she felt like she couldn’t breathe and she just wanted Blake to be okay. She shifted her grip on her girlfriend as she reached the top of the hill, wheezing as she tried to pull in another breath. Sweat ran down her back and her clothes weren’t sticking to her from rain anymore. The sun was barely visible above the treeline now and Yang tripping and falling head over ass down the hill with Blake was the last thing she wanted. 

Her arms were shaking by the time the chimney turned from a floating landmark to something connected to a house. The shutters were closed and no light shone out from the windows. A truck that’d been left to rot long before the outbreak started sat twenty feet back from the house. It took everything in Yang to not kick the door in and start crashing through the house. Instead, she walked up to the door and rested Blake up against the wall, pressing her ear to it. Her pulse roared in her ears as her heart continued to hammer on from the trek here. Yang closed her eyes and let out a long breath, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Her body was screaming so loudly, she could barely hear anything inside the house. 

The wood of the door felt rough pressed against the side of her head, her hair sticking to her cheek. She waited, listening, trying to parse out any possible sound indicating something, anything was moving in the house. Nothing. She closed her eyes, breathing slow before trying to hear anything else.

Nothing.

Yang pulled back from the door and shrugged off the two backpacks she was wearing. No point in trying to jimmy the door open-- Blake was normally the one to do that anyways. She was too impatient to try and work a lock open. Her uncle had taught her where to kick a door, where the lock meeting the frame is the weakest. Yang shook her hands out, immediately regretting the action as her broken hand began to feel like she’d stuck it into a roaring fireplace. 

Her boot connected with the wood and the frame cracked as the door flung inward, bouncing back off the wall. The little light that was left in the day rushed inside the house. Yang paused in the doorway, chest heaving as she looked from Blake to back inside the house. She stepped inside. 

\------------------

March 19th, 2012  
556 Days before the Outbreak

Yang shifted on her bed, rolling her shoulders and neck as she squinted at the slides on her laptop. Anatomy and Physiology sucked. She closed her laptop, grabbing her phone and flopping down onto her bed, scrolling through Facebook. A message, then another rolled across the top of her screen, Yang only able to glimpse the name of the sender before Blake’s name came up on her screen as a call.

Yang didn’t hesitate to accept the call, an excited fluttering entering her stomach. She hadn’t been able to see or talk to Blake much in the past two months and a call, although unexpected, wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“Hey--” Yang muttered into the phone, rubbing at her eye.

“Yang,” Blake’s voice shook into the phone. Yang sat up immediately, holding her phone a little closer.

“C-can you pick me up?” The voice seemed to grow even quieter-- if that was even possible. 

“Yeah, absolutely.” Yang rushed out, already off her bed and halfway down the hallway, “Where are you?”

She didn’t even register Ruby following her down the hallway or the questions being directed at her as she unhooked the car keys. The silence on the other end of the line-- the shaky breathing-- was tying her stomach into knots. If this had anything to do with Adam, Yang was going to--

“Yang, what's going on?” Ruby hissed, tugging on her sleeve.

‘Blake,’ she mouthed at her sister, tugging on her sneakers, and shifting the phone between her shoulder and cheek. 

“Blake,” Yang said, trying to keep her voice even. “Talk to me. Where are you?”

“I-- I’m, uh... At the Starbucks down the, uh... The road from Adam’s.”

The name had the muscles in her jaw jumping and tensing. She had some ideas about what was going on, but Blake hadn’t confirmed anything, said anything to her. Instead, Yang was left to pick up the pieces Blake had left behind-- unnecessary apologizing, deliberate tip toeing in conversation, a forced ease in explaining away her boyfriend's actions. 

“Okay,” Yang said, switching her phone to the other shoulder, “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

A shaky exhale, the sound of something rustling in the background of the call.

“No, you should focus on driving. I’ll see you soon?” Blake muttered into the phone, the question at the end seeming like a promise Yang needed to keep.

“Yeah,” She murmured, “I’ll be there in less than twenty. I promise.”

With a quick text sent to Ruby explaining how Blake was staying the night, Yang was in a car and driving to Adam’s place. Her fingers tapped against the steering wheel and she couldn’t stop her eyes from jumping down to her phone every few minutes. She was worried. It felt like something had been stuck in her throat and no matter how hard she swallowed, she couldn’t clear it. She just hoped Blake was okay, hoped that she’d be able to talk about whatever had happened.

Her car idled at the stoplight, the sign for Starbucks visible just down the road. Yang was just pulling into the parking lot, as Blake’s picture popped up on her phone.

“Hey,” Yang said, getting out of her car and knocking the door closed with her hip. “Where are you?”

“I, um-- I actually changed my mind, you don’t need to pick me up.” Blake said into the phone, the words carrying a shake that set Yang on edge.

The answer left Yang narrowing her eyebrows. Something was wrong. She twisted in the parking lot, looking from her car to the few people walking out of the store. There didn’t seem to be anyone inside. She walked a few paces towards the building.

“Blake,” she said, slow, oddly calm. “Is he with you?”

“Yeah,” Blake responded, the answer clear to her but not whoever was listening, “I’m so sorry about the confusion earlier, I was overreacting.” 

Her grip was tight on the phone and a low shake had entered her limbs. Her heart rattled in her ribs. Adrenaline was running through her veins and she wasn’t even the one in danger. Yang pinched at the bridge of her nose, speed walking over to the building. She didn’t have a plan, but she had to figure something out.

“Can you get away from him?” Yang asked, promptly followed by, “Safely?”

“Mhm, yeah, of course I’ll call you later.”

There was a pause long enough on the line for Yang to slip in the last bit she could before Blake hung up.

“I’m right outside Starbucks, as soon as I see you I’ll--” 

The call ended.

A car door slammed shut, quickly followed by another. Rapid footsteps, then a voice calling after them. Yang took a few steps away from the curb surrounding the building, heading towards the commotion. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?! We’re really gonna do this again? You just had one emotional blow out-- you’re gonna add another on top of that one?” 

Her lips pressed into a firm line. Two figures were walking towards her, each shrouded in shadow as the street lamp in the middle of the parking lot flickered inconsistently. One turned, voice raised.

“Adam!” Blake shouted, the name ripped from her throat. “ Enough! It’s over!” 

The lamp flickered back on and Yang was fully able to see the two of them. Blake turned towards Adam, her fists clenched tight at her side. 

“Over?!” Adam barked, confusion written clear across his face.

Yang was closing the distance between the two of them now and she hadn’t even realized it--hadn’t realized how her heart was in her throat, how relieved she was to see Blake. Adam stepped forward, grabbing Blake by her arm.

“Let go of me Adam.” Blake demanded, the waiver leaving her voice and something stronger, harder entering it. 

“You think you’re gonna find anyone better than me? Anyone else that could love you?” He continued, tugging her closer. 

Yang watched as Blake shoved him, stepping back, frantically looking over her shoulder. Relief flooded her face as gold met purple. She closed the little bit of distance left between the three of them, stepping up next to Blake and briefly touching her bicep.

“You okay?” Yang asked, glancing over to the huffing man who was just a few feet away from them.

Yang hadn’t noticed how Blake had folded in on herself, her shoulders bunched and arms tight to her side. But the simple question made the other woman stand tall, square her jaw, nod her head. 

“Can’t you see this is a private matter?” Adam snarled, gesturing between him and Blake. “Why don’t you take the hint and fuck off.” 

Yang didn’t properly understand the saying of seeing red until then. She strode forward, pushing Adam back further, her voice raising.

“She called me, asshole. Why don’t you fuck off?!”

Reason came crashing back into her skull. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage. She was one hundred percent sure that she just made the situation worse, but god was this man such a piece of shit. She couldn’t let nonsense continue to spew from this washed up frat boy's mouth. 

Yang had never been in a fight--well, that wasn’t quite true. She had never been in a fight outside of a ring with strict rules. She had started taking boxing classes after Summer died in the hopes of channeling the jumbled mess of emotions that wouldn’t leave her chest. It sort of helped. 

Adam swung first. It wasn’t until that point that Yang realized how tall he was; the next thing she noticed was how sloppy he was. It was the kind of punch a man who relied on his weight and height threw, not one based in skill. She pivoted, ducking under his arm and snapped her leg out, tripping him. He tumbled to the ground, letting out a yell of frustration. 

“My car’s over there! Run!” Yang shouted over her shoulder, pointing to her parked car. 

She turned, starting to run after Blake. Her car was only a few seconds’ sprint away-- they could make it and then peel out of the lot. They’d be fine. A hand grabbed her ankle and her face met the concrete. She kicked her leg out, rolling onto her back and trying to break his grip. Her arms automatically came up to cover her face, a blow colliding with her forearm, then bicep. A hand  
gripped her wrist, trying to pin it to the ground. Yang slammed her other fist into Adam’s face, a nauseating crunch popping under her knuckles. Adam reared back, hands flying to his nose.

“You bitch!” He screamed, blood dribbling into his mouth. “You broke my nose!” 

“Oops,” Yang said, not her brightest moment. 

Adam’s fist rammed into her cheek before she was able to bring her arms up. Another blow caught her chin, definitely splitting her lip. She was overwhelmed-- she couldn’t catch her breath, and Adam just kept going. He jerked, head flying to the side as a foot followed. Blake’s foot. 

Yang scrambled back, not even realizing Blake was tugging her up off the concrete. Her foot slipped from under her and her hands slapped into the ground, pebbles biting into her palms. A familiar hand curled around her elbow, fully righting her. Then they were sprinting. Sneakers pounded the ground so hard-- she felt it through her knees. Blake stopped at the passenger side as Yang whipped around the front of the car, yanking hard on her door. 

“Get in, get in, get in,” Yang said as she fumbled through her pockets for her keys, thanking her past self for not locking the car.

Blake tugged the door open, falling into the passenger seat. Yang ripped the keys from her front pocket, her hands shaking as she missed the ignition. The locks in the car clicked, Yang looking up briefly to see Blake’s hand leaving the button. 

The key connected and Yang twisted it so hard she was surprised it didn’t snap. The engine roared to life and she reversed, speeding out of the lot and turning onto the road.  
Yang didn’t slow down for a long time-- didn’t stop the car until her hands stopped shaking and she was breathing even again. She pulled over onto a side street, putting the car into park. Blake hadn’t spoken the whole time she’d been driving. 

“Blake,” Yang said softly, turning in her seat towards the other woman. “Blake, hey, look at me.” 

Her hand hovered over Blake’s shoulder. A trembling breath fell from the other woman's lips. Blake’s hands came up and wrapped around Yang’s. A sniffle, and then her hands were being tightly squeezed.

“I’m sorry,” Blake rushed out, a level of pain carried on the words that had Yang trying to meet her gaze. 

“Blake, wait,” she said, pulling her hand from Blake’s grip and immediately regretting it. “Let me make something clear; You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“Yang…” Blake whispered. It seemed like she was forcing the words out of her throat, “He’s--” A sharp intake of breath, “I should’ve known better. He’s gotten…” She stared out the windshield. Blake rubbed the back of her hand hard across her cheek, sniffling. 

It took a second for what Blake left unsaid to register, but once it did the muscles in her jaw tensed. Suddenly the little regret she felt for breaking Adam’s nose disappeared. She breathed slowly out of her nose, trying to calm down. She could get angry later, right now she needed to make sure Blake understood she wasn’t to blame-- have Blake just... look at her.  
A roll of thunder sounded over them as thick drops of rain started to splatter against the windshield. Yang leaned closer, placing her hand on Blake’s cheek. An unsteady breath ghosted against her wrist as something wet met her palm. She wiped her thumb across Blake’s cheek. None of this was Blake’s fault, Yang knew that. She just wished Blake would realize it too. 

“The only person to blame here,” Yang said, slow, “is Adam.”

Blake nodded as Yang raised her hand, wiping tears from her other cheek. Gold met lavender and something she didn’t have a name for yet settled in her chest. With it came the knowledge that Blake was going to be okay, they were going to be okay. 

\------------------

The air inside the house felt heavy, like the mildew that had started to settle into the corners of each room had started filling the air too. Yang paused, squinting into the rest of the entryway, the little bit of light behind her silhouetting her. She shuffled forward a few more inches, almost tripping on the lip of the carpet below her. Her pulse spiked as she stumbled forward a few more feet, catching herself and then holding completely still. 

She didn’t breathe, she didn’t move.

If there was anything else left in the house, it definitely would’ve heard that. Her hand twitched, resting at the base of her back, knuckles brushing against the gun there. A creak of the wood floor above her had all the muscles in her back bunching and tensing as her palm curled around the grip of the gun. There was a stairway to her right, the counter to a kitchen visible just past that. Breath stuttered out of her parted lips as she craned her neck up, the shadow filled staircase looking back. 

The sound of the floor settling above, a phlegmy exhale.

Yang hadn’t shot a gun in months. Learning how to use one was inevitable and her uncle made damn well sure she knew how to do it, but shooting at a target and whatever was upstairs was very different. Yang exhaled shakily, ejecting the magazine from the gun and counting what she could see in it. She couldn’t leave Blake outside, she had to find a safe room down here and then deal with whatever was upstairs. Find a safe room, make sure nothing else was down here-- she could do that. Sure.

Yang glanced back up at the staircase, making sure there wasn’t anything making an unannounced appearance at the top, before walking past the staircase and into the kitchen. There were still pots on the stove filled with water that was well past safe to drink. She walked over to the cupboard, opening it up, a few cans of food staring back. She bowed her head as tension started to drain from her shoulders. She could take this small victory. She could sit with it for a moment. 

Yang moved through the rest of the kitchen as quietly as possible, taking note of items that would be helpful later. The half empty bottle of vodka, the kitchen scissors that somehow hadn’t rusted, the bottled water under the sink. The hallway connected to the kitchen led to a living room that looped back to the entryway she came in from. The couch sat in the middle of the room, a few books piled on the cushions, the spines of some held together with tape. A couple magazines from a familiar publisher were haphazardly strewn across the floor next to the couch. Yang couldn’t look at them for more than a few seconds. Wouldn’t allow herself to do so. She took a few steps away from the couch, turning towards the only area of the house she hadn’t searched yet. The gun felt heavy in her hand. 

An unopened door stood before her as she followed the wall of the living room. How she missed it when she first walked in, she had no idea. Yang tucked the gun back into her pants, curling her fingers around the door handle. The metal was cold and bit into her palm. She pushed it open and almost fell onto her ass immediately as she was greeted with the reflection of someone. She hadn’t had the chance to look into a mirror in a few days, and she definitely hadn’t showered anytime recently either. She inched closer, blinking at her reflection, she didn’t even recognize herself. Would Ruby even recognize her right now?

She shook her head, stepping out of the bathroom and walking back across the house. She didn’t have any more time to waste. It was fully dark now. Yang was lucky her eyes had had a moment to adjust, otherwise she’d be stumbling around and making plenty of noise for whatever was upstairs to find her. 

A soft groan from the doorway had her rushing the rest of the distance. 

“Blake?” She asked, cupping her girlfriend's cheeks, eyes frantically searching her face.

She wasn’t given a response just a soft press of Blake’s cheek further into her palm. It was an action that almost seemed engrained in Blake, something she would even do when Yang was trying to wake her up. It normally filled her chest with something warm and undefinable, all she knew was that it felt good. Instead, her chest constricted, pushing all the breath out of her lungs, leaving it cold and empty. 

Getting Blake inside the house wasn’t difficult. Neither was walking across the living room and placing her in the bathroom. What was, was dealing with the fact that something was upstairs and Yang was inevitably going to have to level a gun at it and pull the trigger. She wiped at her forehead as she stood in the doorway of the bathroom, the gun hot against her back. She walked through the living room, across the entryway and stopped at the foot of the stairs. She’d learned a few weeks after the outbreak how quiet everything gets once society crashes to a halt. It made her skin crawl at first. The lack of the constant hum of electricity or the occasional car passing on the street. Blake helped her find the comfort in it-- the beauty in a night sky lacking light pollution, or the hum of cicadas at night. She couldn’t find that beauty right now. 

Yang pulled the gun from the back of her pants. It rested heavy in her palm, her finger curled over the trigger so only a simple squeeze was needed. The stairs in front of her seemed to never end as she lifted her foot and slowly brought it down, waiting for the wood to creak, to announce her presence further to whatever had shifted about upstairs. Going up each step felt like eternity.. The top of the staircase opened up to three hallways, each as ill lit as the next. She really couldn’t catch a break, huh.

“Great,” Yang sighed, removing her hand from the railing and loosely cupping the butt of the gun. 

The hallway she chose had three doors. Yang’s hand hovered over the door handle for the first one, her fingers curling around the handle. Each finger had started getting more and more stiff since she’d punched that man. She pushed the door open inch by inch until she could peek her head inside, only to be greeted by... nothing. A bedroom. Judging by the vague shapes in the corner, a teen’s. She closed the door and moved to the next one. This one was for someone younger, a sister, maybe? Judging by the Twilight poster on the wall, Yang was inclined to agree. The  
smolder of Edward was cut off as she closed the door, heading to the final room in this hallway.

Something clattered to the floor as she stopped in front of the door. The sound of heaving breaths followed by moans. Her hand shook as she reached for the door. She didn’t do this type of thing, normally-- didn’t bother with the infected. Her uncle encouraged smart thinking and this was not it, but she had no other choice. As soon as she started helping Blake with her wound, there was no way they could stay quiet enough with something upstairs. It would find them, it would-- her hand closed around the handle. 

Inching it open was the best strategy she had, the small movements of the door feeling like she was slowly placing her hand inside a bear trap. She was just waiting for the plate to trigger and for the punishment of the idiocy behind the action to come crashing down. She poked her head in scanning the room. A figure stood near the window, hands curled close to their chest, form shuddering. Their foot shifted, knocking the toy cars on the floor deeper into the open closet. They jerked, turning towards the sound. Their back was fully turned to Yang; she might be able to take them out without even using the gun. She tucked the gun back into her pants. 

Yang rushed the distance, her feet slamming into the floor. Her forearm hooked around their neck and she dropped down to the floor, twisting. The infected clawed and grasped at her arm as it crashed down to the floor. Its teeth clacked together uselessly as Yang’s arm shook, her grip around its neck tightening. 

“Stop, please, just stop.” She begged as the figure’s hands scratched against her shirt, trying to find purchase. 

An elbow flung back, colliding with her ribs. A grunt ripped from her clenched teeth. Her grip loosened. Another elbow lurched back and into her ribs as the infected screamed and howled. Her hold on it broke as it flopped forward, clawing against the ground. Yang flew back onto the floor, air rushing out of her lungs. The infected whipped towards her, jumping on her, its teeth clacking as she braced against its chest. Its spit dribbled on her cheek as her hold on its shoulders weakened, its face dropping closer and closer. She was going to die, she was going to die, she was going to die. 

\------------------

January 13th, 2014  
110 Days After the Outbreak

“Yang,” a light kiss pressed to her temple, “Yang, babe wake up.” 

A low groan rolled from her throat as she turned over, blindly reaching for her girlfriend, a hand meeting her searching arm. Her eyes cracked open, met with a still dark room.

“What time is it?” Yang mumbled, rubbing at her eye as she pushed up from the bed. 

“I don’t think past three,” Blake muttered.

Gentle scratches started being worked into her back as Yang slowly woke up, her eyes adjusting to the little light in the room. Weight shifted on the bed and then a lamp flickered to life in the corner. 

“Is everything okay?” Yang asked, yawning into her hand and lazily intertwining her fingers with Blake’s.

“Mhm,” Blake hummed as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Yang’s forehead. “I want to show you something.” 

“Does it require me getting out of bed?” Yang asked as Blake started tugging her up, a groan of complaint rumbling out of Yang's throat.

“Yes, my dearest sunflower, it does.” Blake drawled, patting Yang on the butt to get her moving. 

Yang waddled across the cold wood floor and crouched in front of her and Blake’s shared duffle bag. She teetered back and forth on the balls of her feet as she looked over her shoulder at her girlfriend. Blake was shrugging on Yang’s USC sweatshirt, the piece of clothing seeming to swallow her whole. Something warm and comfortable settled in Yang’s chest as Blake pulled her head through the neck of the sweatshirt and looked back over at her.

“What?” Blake asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I love you.”

A soft smile bloomed across Blake’s face, the corners of her eyes scrunching. It was a happy smile. It was a smile Yang loved seeing and didn’t want to stop seeing. The warm, familiar feeling in Yang's chest expanded and grew until she was smiling back. Blake crossed the little distance between them and placed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I love you too. Now dress warm, we’re going outside.” Blake said, stopping at the door and tugging her boots on.

Yang pulled on what she deemed ‘warm’ and followed Blake out of their room. Uncle Qrow, Ruby, Weiss and the both of them had been holed up in this house for the past month, and were doing just fine. Well, as fine as they could be doing. The world had fallen into shambles in mere days a few months ago. They’d all been adjusting as best as they could. 

Blake turned into the kitchen, opening up one of the cabinets and pulling out a bottle. Yang raised her eyebrows as the amber liquid in the bottle caught shimmers of light from the moon outside. She was shocked her uncle hadn’t finished it yet. Blake passed the bottle to Yang and then continued out of the kitchen, a childlike level of secrecy seeming to fall over whatever they were doing. Sneaking around the house, sneaking liquor, it felt like they were breaking rules even though they both knew there weren’t any. It felt nice. 

They both stopped at the door of the house, Yang peeking over her shoulder as Blake flicked the locks and pushed it open. It really did feel like they were sneaking out. Yang walked out onto the porch, cocking her head as Blake walked around it a few times, her face pinched like she was trying to figure out a particularly difficult math problem.

“What are you doing?” Yang asked, a laugh working its way into the question.

“Boost me,” Blake said, reaching her hands over her head, “please?” 

Blake shot an exaggerated, pleading look over her shoulder, the flair of dramatism adding to the ridiculousness of whatever this was. She rolled her eyes, walking over to where Blake was trying to get on the roof. 

“I-- Alright.” Yang shrugged, putting the bottle down and threading her hands together for a foot hold. 

Blake’s boot slotted into her palms and Yang heaved upwards. Her girlfriend's foot swung back towards her, narrowly missing her face as she disappeared from her line of sight. A victorious hoot sounded above her.

“Pass me the bottle and then grab my hand, I’ll tug you up,” Blake rushed out, the excitement in whatever she had planned tangible.

Yang shuffled back towards the bottle, plucking it from the ground. She rotated it in her hands, the amber liquid sloshing back and forth. The light from the moon above added a blue tint to everything. The night was calm--a new kind of calm that Yang was still getting used to. Bugs chirped in the surrounding trees, the occasional call from a nocturnal animal cutting through the thick brush. 

“What are you planning, Belladonna?” Yang asked, passing the bottle up to Blake.

“If I tell you,” Blake said, turning to place the bottle down before turning back and peeking over the lip of the roof, “then that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?” 

Yang huffed, raising her arm. Blake’s hand clasped around her forearm as she pushed off the porch and clambered up onto the roof. She didn’t do it gracefully, but she did get up on the roof after a moment. 

“Well...” Yang drawled. “We’re on the roof. Now what?” 

Blake rolled her eyes. “Follow me.”

Blake grabbed the bottle, walking along the roof, her hand occasionally touching down for balance. Yang watched her girlfriend meander across the roof before disappearing on the other side.

“Well?” Blake asked, peeking her head over the ridge, “Are you coming?” 

Yang clambered forward, her hands almost always touching the roof as she scaled up and over the ridge. As she did, Blake came back into view, her girlfriend patting the space next to her. 

“Look,” Blake said, pointing up to the sky. 

Yang laid next to Blake, following where she’d been pointing. A flash of fire flew across the night sky. Then another. Then another. Her breath caught in her throat. A pinky bumped against hers as familiar fingers intertwined with her own. 

“A meteor shower?” Yang murmured.

“Yeah,” Blake whispered. “I was planning on having a date night, before...” the rest of the sentence hung flat in the air. 

Before everything fell apart. Before they all were running along the coast, hoping they’d be able to sleep through a night. Before they all arrived at this house. Before they were given the opportunity to breathe for a moment.

The sound of a bottle being unscrewed filled the silence, then liquid sloshing. The open bottle was pressed into Yang’s chest 

“I was worried I’d missed the date of the shower,” Blake laughed, turning her head towards Yang. The smell of whiskey clung to her breath. 

Yang took a sip, the alcohol biting at the back of her throat as she swallowed. They could make a new normal. This could be a new normal. 

“I was worried I’d forgotten our anniversary with how frantically you were looking for a calendar yesterday,” Yang joked.

Blake squinted at her, poking at her chest.

“Not this time, Xiao Long.” 

“It was one time!” Yang groaned, knocking her head back. This argument was familiar. A constant joke the two of them touched on constantly. 

“You better hope it stays that way,” Blake murmured, taking another sip from the bottle before passing it back to Yang.

She didn’t count how many times she and Blake passed the bottle between them, but the tingling in her fingers and the heat running under her skin made it clear she wasn’t sober anymore. The bottle lay forgotten at their feet as Yang mindlessly ran her fingers along Blake’s side. Her girlfriend’s head rested on her shoulder, tracing patterns onto her stomach. Occasionally, a meteor would flash across the sky, painting the rest of the stars in red and orange.

“Thank you.” 

Yang didn’t need to explain what the thanks was for. She knew Blake would understand as soon as the words left her mouth. For the past few months, things had been so serious, so unsure, so terrifying. Blake had managed to find pockets of light through all of that--had been showing Yang those pockets, made her realize everything was going to be okay. That they would be okay. 

\------------------

Cold metal pressed into her back as teeth gnashed in front of her face. The gun, she still had the gun. She just needed to kick this infected off her. Her arms shook as her muscles bunched and tensed. Hungry hands clawed at her shoulders, trying to get a better grip, to get closer. 

She only had one chance. Fuck it up and she was dead. Yang sucked in a sharp breath, pushing up against the infected. Hard. It careened back, giving her a wider opening. She drove her elbow into its face, sending it sprawling off of her. Yang scrambled up off the floor, tugging the gun from her pants. She couldn’t remember if she put the safety on. She didn’t have time to check as the infected scrambled off the floor and lunged at her. It slammed into her, pushing her into the wall, the plaster caving in and the wind rushing out of Yang’s lungs. Her hands fumbled with the gun, cocking it. The infected screamed as it clung onto Yang, its head jerking. Spit splattered against her neck. Her finger curled around the trigger.

The gun jerked. 

Something wet and hot splashed across her neck and face. Her ears rang and the weight pressed against her front dropped to the floor. Silence. Yang wasn’t sure if the silence was genuine or if her ears were still ringing so badly she still couldn’t hear anything. She took a few staggering steps forward, the gun loosely held in her hand. Her gaze dropped down to the infected on the floor-- to the hole blown through its head. Bile kicked up in her throat and Yang rushed out of the room before she threw up the little food left in her stomach. Her hand clapped against the wall as the floor in front of her shook and danced. 

She closed her eyes and counted to ten, breathing long and slow through her nose. She wasn’t going to be sick, she wasn’t going to go into shock. She was shaking. She’d never-- She hadn’t... She hadn’t killed before. Yang brought her shaking hand to her mouth, her knees buckling. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All she could focus on was the dark stains across her palms, her shirt, the blood coating her face. 

She was having a panic attack. 

The back of her eyes stung as tears worked their way out of the corners. It was too much, all of this was too much. She needed a break, a moment to breathe. And she couldn’t breathe. A sob wracked its way out of her throat as she pressed her forehead to the floor, pulling in a shaky breath. The carpet was rough. Yang knotted her fingers through her hair, pulling as she squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to stop, she needed to focus. She forced a breath out through clenched teeth, trying to count to ten, to calm down. 

Eventually, it worked. 

Yang pulled herself up off the floor. She wasn’t sure when she dropped the gun but it laid there on the carpet, the grip stained. She didn’t pick it back up, didn’t want to. She walked down the hallway, down the stairs and into the kitchen. Starting to prepare the kitchen felt robotic. Clean off the counter, find a rag, pray it’s clean, soak it in alcohol, clean her hands then the counter. Don’t think, only act. She took out the bottled water she found earlier, uncapping one and taking a sip. Drinking from it felt euphoric. A groan rolled out of her throat as she took another hungry sip from the bottle. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until that moment. She capped it, needing to save as much as possible. She wasn’t sure how long she and Blake would be staying here. Yang looked over the kitchen one final time, making sure everything else was in place before getting Blake. 

She walked through the living room and back into the bathroom pushing the door open. Blake was in the same spot Yang left her in, her girlfriend's mouth slightly parted as a small sigh escaped it. If Yang just kept looking at her face, it seemed like everything was fine. No gunshot wound, no panic, just Blake sleeping. Her gaze traced the curve of Blake’s neck, the dirt that had dried there, before skirting down and stalling over the dark stain on her stomach, the awkward way the cloth folded from the blood that had soaked into it. She swallowed thickly, breathing slowly. She picked Blake up, cradling her close to her chest as she walked back over to the kitchen. Blake shifted in her arms, a hand placed on Yang’s chest.

“Babe?” Blake muttered, her eyes cracking open as she squinted, looking around at the house.

“Hey,” Yang sighed, the word itself seeming to ooze relief. “Hey, baby.” Blake’s hand curled into her shirt, stilling.

An awakeness seemed to snap back into Blake as her hand pulled away from Yang’s chest and moved to her cheek, her neck. Yang’s chest constricted.

“Are you hurt?” Blake asked. The absolute disregard for her own well being left Yang unsteady.

“No, no, I haven’t...” Yang mumbled and trailed off as she set Blake down on the counter, passed an open water bottle to her. “We need to clean and stitch you up.”

She couldn’t look Blake in the eye-- how could she? Blood coated hands and brain matter flashed before her eyes. A hand pressed to her cheek, bringing her gaze back up to meet Blake’s. Alert eyes, eyes that could read her like a book and oftentimes seemed to know her better than herself. 

“I love you,” Blake said, running her thumb in that ever familiar pattern against Yang’s cheek. The words carried weight, weight that sunk in Yang's stomach like lead in water. So much had happened in the past couple hours, she wasn’t sure if Blake would be able to stomach what had happened. What she’d done. 

Yang pulled away, picking up the bottle of vodka she had found, and unscrewed the top. The smell leaking from the bottle made her scrunch her nose, she was never a fan of vodka. She could feel Blake’s eyes on her back, watching her as she soaked another rag with the alcohol. 

“Do you...” Yang paused, her gaze dropping to the counter next to where Blake sat. “Do you remember when we first met?”

Alcohol dribbled down her fingertips from the rag as she stepped in between Blake’s legs. A hand pressed gently against her hip as Yang glanced up, meeting Blake’s gaze. Her breath stilled in her throat at the slow patience she was met with.

“Of course,” Blake muttered. “It was the first day of our freshman year.” 

Yang pulled up the edge of Blake’s shirt, the fabric peeling back awkwardly. The wound looked mostly superficial. Yang let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. No internal damage, no fishing a bullet out, only cleaning, bandaging and making sure it didn’t get infected. Maybe stitches. They could do this. 

“Do you remember the professor's name?” She asked as she pressed the rag to Blake’s side.

Blake grunted, her grip on Yang’s hip tightening as pained laughter fell from her lips. 

“Uh,” she squirmed, “I think it was Professor Goodwitch?” 

“Right,” Yang said, nodding as she continued to wipe away the grit. “Never believed her last name was real.”

Okay, Blake was definitely going to need stitches. 

“Goodwitch is a perfectly,” sharp inhale, “normal last name, Yang.” 

“Hmmm,” Yang pulled back, walking over to where she found some fishing line and sewing needles. “Maybe if you’re the side character in a TV show.” 

Blake chuckled at that, something Yang considered a small victory. She weakly smiled at her girlfriend as she started threading the fishing line through the needle, jerking her chin at the vodka.

“Take a few sips, it’ll probably help.”

A shaky exhale.

“Is it bad?” The question was small, the confident face Blake had been putting on crumbling.

“No,” Yang said, stepping closer, resting her hand on Blake’s thigh. “No, it’s not bad. You’re gonna be fine.” 

She pressed her lips to Blake’s forehead, her girlfriend seeming to push into the action. Warm breath ghosted against her neck and for a moment Yang let herself stay there. She pressed her chin to the top of Blake’s head.

“You’re gonna be back to your snarky self in no time.” 

“Are you saying I’m not bringing the snark right now?” Blake mumbled.

“Hard to say,” Yang replied, smiling as a finger poked at her side.

Yang shifted her head, pressing her cheek on top of Blake’s head. Her hair still managed to smell of the shampoo she’d been using before all this.

“You took a few sips from the bottle?” Yang asked. Blake shifted under her and she took a few steps back to allow her to sip from it. 

“Bleh.” Blake puckered her face placing the bottle down next to her, shooting a glare towards it like it had violently wronged her. 

A small smile tugged at Yang's lips as she cupped Blake’s cheek, running her thumb across it. She loved her so much. Loved the way she would cock her head after asking a question, loved the way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled, loved-- spatterings of dried blood on her sleeve caught her eye and made her still before fully dropping her hand. A weight pressed down on her shoulders, something cold and hard curling around her neck. Guilt. 

Yang cleared her throat as she rolled the sewing needle between her thumb and pointer finger.

“Ready?” She asked, lifting the needle for Blake to see.

A nervous smile and mumbled affirmation later, Yang was hunched over inches from Blake’s side, replaying every conversation she ever had with Jaune. 

“Do you remember the time Jaune had to give me stitches in your bathroom?” Yang mumbled as she pinched Blake’s skin together and pushed the needle through.

“After you fell over the railing into my backyard when my parents were away on vacation? How could I forget,” Blake said through clenched teeth.

“I wasn’t even drunk. I was just stupid,” Yang laughed, softly pushing another stitch through.

“We’d--” Blake’s grip shifted on the counter. “We’d only been dating for two weeks. I was so worried you were going to blame me for it somehow.”

Before Yang could say anything, Blake continued.

“I know you wouldn’t, I knew you wouldn’t then either. It was just old assumptions from Adam.” 

Another stitch.

“He was such a piece of shit,” Yang said, fire behind her words.

She looked up from Blake’s side only to notice Blake was looking back at her, an indescribable softness being directed at her.

“Yeah,” Blake said. “He was.” 

Yang turned back to Blake’s side, shifting weight from one foot to another. She pushed another stitch through. A thickness coating her throat that had her swallowing hard. 

“I’m almost done,” she promised.

Another stitch.

“Do you remember what happened after Jaune gave me a scolding?” Yang continued, trying to distract--to keep Blake talking, keep her as comfortable as possible. 

“I-- I don’t think I do,” Blake hissed in pain.

Yang tied a knot at the end that she hoped was acceptable before snipping the sewing needle free.

“You talked to me the whole time, to try to distract me,” Yang said simply. “About anything and everything, you just,” she pressed a makeshift bandage to Blake’s side, looking up towards the other woman, “kept me talking.”

Hands brushed hair back from her forehead, lingering at her temple. A stillness settled over the kitchen--one that Blake managed to bring with her, that left Yang feeling breathless and on fire. Comfortable warmth bloomed from her temple as Blake’s hand trailed down the side of her face to her jaw, lifting it. Chapped lips pressed to hers. A simple message conveyed with the action. 

Thank you. I love you. 

Something painful rattled in Yang’s chest. Something like guilt, something like regret. Blake pulled back, her nose bumping against Yang’s.

“Thank you,” she sighed.

Yang didn’t reply. Instead, she directed a small smile at her girlfriend. One she hoped was convincing enough. One she hoped wouldn’t open up a well of questions she wasn’t ready to talk about. Questions she knew she didn’t have the answer for yet. One’s she wouldn’t be able to respond to without breaking apart. She pulled away, walking across the house and moving the backpacks into the living room.

“We can sleep down here for the night,” Yang said loud enough for it to carry to the kitchen. “I had to kick in the door so I’ll keep watch for now.”

“Are you sure?” Blake asked, walking into the living room. “You…” 

“Yeah,” Yang said, a bite entering her voice. “I’m sure.” 

“Okay.” Blake frowned, her hand gingerly placed over her side as she walked over to the couch.

Yang unclipped the sleeping bags attached to their backpacks, pain shooting up through her hand and settling in her palm. She’d forgotten her hand was broken. Or fractured-- she honestly couldn’t tell. All she knew was that using her hand at all felt like shoving it into a coalpit. She bit down on the inside of her cheek as she shifted about Blake’s sleeping bag. 

“I can take care of getting my sleeping bag settled,” Blake mumbled as she placed her hand on Yang's bicep. “You can get yourself settled.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Yang agreed, pushing up and off the floor before heading back into the kitchen. 

The rag coated in Blake’s blood was still lying on the counter and Yang was grabbing it before she had even decided what she was going to do with it. The rag was cold and damp in her hand. Her good hand squeezed it until her knuckles turned white and pink, stained droplets fell to the floor, leaving splatters that reminded Yang of flower petals. She grabbed the bottle sitting on the counter next to her and poured some more alcohol on the rag. She pressed the fabric hard into her skin, scrubbing at the dried stains that she could see. She felt dirty. She felt angry. Most of all, she felt like a murderer. 

The sound of someone shifting onto the couch and getting settled snapped her out of whatever haze she had fallen into. Her skin was red from how hard she was pushing the rag into it. She tossed the rag back onto the counter and pressed the flats of her palms into her eyes until stars exploded in her vision. She felt like she was drowning and she had no idea how to stop it. Yang walked out of the kitchen towards the doorway. Even if she’d kicked in the lock for the door handle, the deadbolt should work. Her good hand flicked the lock into place and then she was walking back into the living room and flopping down on the couch. She leaned her head back on the cushions, sighing. 

“If you need to swap, just let me know,” Blake sleepily mumbled as she knocked her head against Yang’s thigh.

“Okay,” Yang said, raising her hand to run along Blake’s side before pausing. She pulled her hand back, instead resting it against her forehead. 

Snapping teeth and brain matter, bones crunching underneath her knuckles, bones that weren’t her own. She was a monster. A killer. 

Blake let out a small sigh as her hands curled underneath her chin. Yang felt sick.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed!! I started writing this before the pandemic got bad in the U.S. and it feels strange posting it now but, I'm posting it anyways. I listened to a staggering amount of Hozier when writing all of this, you can thank him for the flip-flopping between tender and upsetting scenes. If you want to interact or shoot me questions you can find me on twitter @ollie_griffins


End file.
